


What Makes a Home

by i_buchanan



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Gift Giving, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Omega Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Soft Stucky, courting, five tons of pining honestly, most of this fic is just Steve giving Bucky things he doesn't need, my babies are oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_buchanan/pseuds/i_buchanan
Summary: Bucky's grateful to be living with Steve again. Grateful to have another chance to keep him close, regardless of the stress of keeping his feelings to himself. It would be a lot easier to do that, however, if Steve didn't seem intent on getting him more than he could think to ask for.





	What Makes a Home

There was something familiar about the apartment Steve urged him into, carefully not touching him but doing his best to herd Bucky along all the same.

By all accounts, it was nothing like anywhere he’d actually lived before. It was far too big to realistically remind him of the shoebox of a place he and Steve shared a lifetime ago, and HYDRA barely let him be awake long enough to ‘live’ anywhere other than concrete floored warehouses.

The walls were bare, the furniture looked sleek and stiff, and not even the little places Bucky managed to survive in while on the run had been anything like this.

“Is this all right?” Steve asked softly, as if Bucky had any sort of standards of living to compare it to. Worry was clear in the furrow between his brows.

Bucky swallowed thickly, hand tightening around the strap of his backpack. Maybe the familiar thing was that it felt empty, a little cold.

But Steve was behind him. Warm when nothing else was, and that was all Bucky realistically needed.

“It’s more than all right, Stevie,” he answered.

Whatever tenuous emotion filled the room seemed to break, Steve’s relief palpable as he finally closed the door behind him. “I’ll show you your room and we can get you settled in, then. I… I’m really glad you’re back, Buck.”

There was a flush of embarrassment as Bucky clung to what little he had left. It wouldn’t be anything near enough to fill up a room on his own, but he got the sense that Steve knew that already.

It made him feel wrongfooted down in his bones for reasons he couldn’t fathom, since it wasn’t like they had much between them before the war either.

Maybe it was the size of the space compared to the lack of things in it that felt off.

As if he could sense Bucky’s hesitation, Steve paused, hand hovering at his elbow but not quite willing to touch yet. That few inches of space shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. “We’ll sort it out. You can borrow my things until we can get you your own.”

Of course Steve would be able to see right to the root of the issue, and Bucky felt his cheeks warm as he ducked his head. There wasn’t much else he could do about the matter except try to find the words to properly thank him for all of this.

* * *

When Steve said ‘we’ll sort it out’, it turned out to mean something more like ‘let me spoil you rotten’.

It had started simple enough. New bed linens, proper clothing, the works. More basic things that Bucky could rationalize easily.

Now it was starting to escalate. Different shampoos and conditioners specifically  _ for _ Bucky, a few rugs and plants both in his room and in the living area, and now it was another pair of sleep pants on top of towels that were softer than the ones Steve already had.

It wasn’t every time that Bucky came back to the apartment to find new things. He was still being shuffled off to so many doctors and therapists that it would be complete overkill for there to be presents every time he came home, but it was often enough to be a pattern.

Of course he was going to have to thank Steve for this as well, regardless of how stilted it always felt. Bucky knew he wasn’t trying to make it awkward, but there was something in the earnest way that he waved Bucky’s gratitude off that just made Bucky feel bad about the whole thing.

The first time Bucky had tried to verbally thank him, in the early days when Bucky was still eyeing his new room with a sense of trepidation, Steve had waved it off with a small smile and something a little sad in the arch of his brows.

Insisting that Bucky didn’t have to go it alone.

It took a month or two before the significance of those words hit him, and Bucky thought his knees would give out on him. Cybernetic arm whirring as Bucky remembered saying that exact same thing to Steve after they buried Sarah Rogers.

He didn’t tell Steve about that coming back to him. Some things were best kept to himself.

But he couldn’t just sit in his room and ignore the new arrivals; he had to do  _ something _ . Say something.

The towels got put away under their bathroom sink, and Bucky ended up pulling the pair of the soft cotton pants over his hips before trying to stealthily walk into the shared living-dining room.

Of course, all of his training only went so far when it came to the odd creaky floorboard. He was still learning where they all were, and it didn’t help that none of them were consistently noisy.

In spite of that, Steve didn’t really look up from the crossword puzzle he was working on until Bucky was standing pretty much in front of him.

And the rough knot of  _ something  _ in his throat prevented Bucky from speaking, so he was pretty much stuck waiting for Steve to acknowledge him.

The fact that he was first reminded of standing in front of Sarah Rogers--seven years old and guilty of accidentally breaking a plate or two--and not any of his handlers spoke to hard-won improvement.

“They fit all right?” Steve said after a few moments, gaze flicking up to Bucky. It lingered for a moment, sweeping up and down and focusing on the obnoxiously bright sun pattern of the pants longer than anything else.

Bucky couldn’t help but scoff, finally allowing himself to curl up on the opposite side of the couch, carefully minding Steve’s space. “I can’t tell if you got them to make fun of me or not.”

The answering hum and half-shrug seemed familiar. Much in the same vein as sharing a sofa, but that particular familiarity was tainted with the knowledge that it used to be different. That either Bucky or Steve used to sprawl over the entire length, making contact inevitable and welcome.

But that didn’t feel right anymore. While very few people really came to their apartment, and Bucky hadn’t seen nor smelled Sharon Carter on Steve since the day everything went to hell, he still felt he should be careful. Mindful. Neither one of them were the same people anymore; they weren’t two dumb kids living in Brooklyn scraping to get by.

Still. The silence felt companionable rather than crushing, and bit by bit Bucky found himself loosening up. His bare toes eventually pressed against Steve’s knee as he allowed himself to take up more space.

Maybe Bucky was imagining the soft honey-scent of contentment rolling off Steve when he grasped Bucky’s ankle, thumb sliding over the flannel material. More likely, it was there and Bucky was simply reading too much into it.

“Thank you,” he managed to say when Steve finally set the little booklet aside. His voice gone rough from the hour or so of silence they’d shared.

There was that same sadness to the curve of Steve’s smile, still hard to look at. “Yeah, Buck. Of course.”

* * *

It wasn’t that Bucky was  _ surprised  _ to realize he’d been in love with Steve his entire life. Much like any resurfacing memory that involved Steve, there was a sense of quiet inevitability in it. As if the truth of it was engraved in his very bones, and he was just now finding the etchings again.

Not that he’d ever told Steve about that. Not that he ever planned to tell Steve about that, either.

So whatever panged in Bucky’s chest whenever Steve brought him something, or tried to make dinner, or even made that low, frustrated huff when his phone went off to alert him of a mission, he buried it deep. He ducked his head, dug his fingers into whatever blanket was closest, and prayed to whoever was up there that Steve never found out. 

* * *

Heat rolled around just on the tail end of winter, and that felt familiar too. There was the sense that his cycle always hit a little too early, the first one coming on when it was still just a bit too cold to air out his rooms when it was over.

They had gotten maybe an hour’s warning before Bucky was locking himself in, sweat dampening the back of his shirt while his entire body trembled. He didn’t remember it hurting this much, the sharp ache in his stomach, the tension between his legs.

HYDRA had kept him on suppressants on the rare occasions where he was unfrozen long enough for his cycle to try and re-establish itself. While they didn’t want to rely on a useless Omega, they didn’t want to bother trying to create a better soldier either. No one wanted to waste nine months of time and resources in the hopes of creating something better when they could reasonably just freeze and unfreeze him until the end of time.

The heavy scent of Steve’s worry felt familiar. Thick, smoky and bitter, it snuck into his room through the cracks under the door, much like the light that quickly started to irritate Bucky’s eyes.

That part was new, he thought. As was the ache that settled in his skin, oversensitive as he scrambled to pull his clothes off as quickly as he could without causing further irritation.

God, it  _ hurt _ though. Right down to his bones, and Bucky only knew how to relieve so much of it on his own.

He couldn’t ask Steve to help. Not because he thought Steve would say no, but because he  _ knew  _ Steve would do just about anything Bucky asked him to. And there was something about Steve helping him out of obligation--of tying them together in the most intimate ways just because he didn’t want to tell Bucky no--that sounded worse than riding it out alone. That sounded like hell compared to what he was currently feeling.

The press of his own fingers at his hole nearly made him flinch, too tender, and he hoped it was just because it had been so long, rather than--

Bucky cut off that line of thinking before he could finish, not wanting to deal with  _ that _ on top of his body screaming to be filled, to release, to get bred up.

It was easier to empty his thoughts for the first little while. To stop thinking and just focus on the dampness beneath his fingers, the pillow beneath his cheek. Eventually on the stretch of his hole once he finally managed to get inside himself.

His breath came in soft pants, eyes shut against the world around him as he worked himself open, imagining it was someone else, some nameless stranger opening him up instead.

The stranger wouldn’t have calluses on his hands. Thick, smooth fingers working, curling, spreading, and Bucky could feel the whine crawling up his throat as he let himself get swept up in it, focusing on the soft, summer-warm scent that barely touched his room, but was present enough,  _ Alpha _ enough, that his hindbrain latched onto it all the same.

It wasn’t until his fourth or fifth orgasm that he recognized the scent he’d been using to get off. It took one more for him to realize what figure he’d been building up in his head while he was doing it.

Bucky couldn’t quite bring himself to stop, even if he knew that he’d be overwhelmed by guilt when the heat finally broke. Just another thing Steve would hopefully never have to know about.

* * *

Three days later, Bucky finally emerged from his room for longer than it took to collect the food and water Steve so diligently left for him multiple times a day. He was sure he smelled awful at this point, sweat and slick and cum having soaked into his skin over the last several days, but he could still practically taste the relief in the air when Steve saw him.

“Hey Buck,” he nearly breathed, face smoothing out.

He looked so small there, sitting on the floor and looking up at Bucky with wide, earnest eyes. It was a little unnerving, given the sheer size of him.

Bucky got the sense that he’d spent most of the last three days near his bedroom, and the thought made his cheeks flush. The memory of what he’d spent the last several days fantasizing about coming back fast and strong.

“I’m ok. It’s done.” Bucky tried to keep close to his door, not wanting to overwhelm Steve with… Well, himself.

At least Steve seemed to understand that, allowing Bucky his space, but still looking more content just for being in Bucky’s presence again as he used the wall behind him to stand.

He tried not to think about the possible implications of the fact that he had been waiting. Didn’t want to get his hopes up over nothing.

“I’m gonna…” Bucky gestured vaguely. What he needed to do was clean himself up, and then try to get the scent out of his bed. It would just drive him crazy if he let it sit, and as much as he hated the thought of having to strip his bed, it beat the alternative.

Steve, at least, seemed to understand, having the decency to blush as his head dropped. “Yeah, of course. Want me to deal with your sheets while you wash up? Or I can make you some dinner; it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper meal.”

The offer startled him a bit more than it maybe should have. After all, Bucky had done the same thing for Steve every time he came down with an illness, so it was maybe just returning that kindness. Probably it was just returning that kindness.

But at the end of the day, Bucky wasn’t going to turn down the offer out of a misplaced sense of pride. He’d been stripped of that a long time ago as it was. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.”

The bright smile and flash of teeth Steve answered with stuck with Bucky even as he soaped away the last several days away from his skin and hair.

* * *

It was significantly harder to ignore that delicate feeling buried deep in his chest. After spending three straight days fantasizing about Steve and all they could do together, it was much harder to push that emotion back down where it belonged. It was harder to ignore it for the sake of being grateful of what he already had.

Every soft smile Steve aimed at him, even for mundane things like when he’d come home from a doctor’s appointment, just set it fluttering again.

Bucky absolutely hated it, but the idea of actually broaching it with Steve sounded infinitely worse.

He wasn’t completely oblivious, though. Obviously he was important to Steve, considering that there was a moment that he was so sure Steve was going to take off Stark’s head because he dared fire off at Bucky. Even though Bucky was absolutely positive he at least somewhat deserved it, considering what he had done to Howard and his wife. Steve wouldn’t hear it.

The problem being, there was a very clear line between ‘friend’ and ‘more’. Just because he was important enough to Steve that he was nearly ready to kill for him, didn't mean he was over that line. Steve never tried to instigate anything further, and Bucky wasn’t willing to take that risk himself.

He wasn’t worried that Steve would throw him out over it or anything like that. But while Bucky had a hard time living with the ambiguity, he knew for a fact that he’d have a much more difficult time if the definitive answer was ‘no’.

* * *

As far as Bucky could remember, Steve’s ruts weren’t very consistent. Always seeming to come on at random, but at least there was always ample warning for it. A solid week’s worth of Steve being overly territorial, overly protective, and bordering on clingy before he finally locked himself in his room for the next several days to ride it out.

For May it already felt like it was bordering on sweltering, but at least they had A/C which almost helped offset it, so long as Bucky didn’t leave the apartment.

Though, it wasn’t helpful on the days when Natasha came into their home while Steve was on a run to drag Bucky out shopping. Supposedly he was a good measure in keeping people away from her. He was pretty sure that was just her excuse to make him be more social. Either way, they did their best to blend in while she picked things out, with Natasha occasionally shoving things at Bucky for him to buy for himself.

Bucky was pretty sure that was just an Alpha thing, at this point.

He came back to his and Steve’s apartment with an assortment of small bags and was met with the sight of Steve pacing a groove into the rug.

Steve promptly froze up the second he saw Bucky, mid-step and looking all the more harried for it.

“You weren’t here when I came back.”

It didn’t feel like an accusation, or even a question. Just a sort of bewildered statement, and Bucky couldn’t help but shrug awkwardly in response. It wasn’t like he never left the apartment, after all.

“Natasha wanted me to act as her bodyguard while she went to pick up some things,” he said, carefully setting the bags down to root through them. While Natasha had been pushing him to get things for himself, Bucky had made a point to pick up something for Steve as well. A small tin of pomade that smelled almost like home.

The distraction of searching for it wasn’t enough of an excuse for why it took Bucky so long to pick up on that deep earthy scent of pre-rut.

He inhaled sharply, hands pausing over the tissue-wrapped tin he’d been looking for. “Do you want me to clear out until this is over?” Bucky asked lowly, surreptitiously looking up to where Steve was still frozen.

There was a real chance that Steve hadn’t noticed, hadn’t attributed his antsiness to his upcoming cycle. Judging by the hot flush that rushed to Steve’s cheeks, it was either that or he was embarrassed by his own irrationality.

“Sorry,” Steve muttered, finally averting his gaze, only to start picking at his nails.

It was reassuring, the familiar sign of sheepishness, and Bucky felt comfortable enough to cross the room to press the tin into Steve’s hands. A small, rueful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You put up with me during my heat. It’s not a hardship for me to do the same for you. I just wasn’t sure if you were comfortable having me around for that or not, considering how you get sometimes.” The words were accompanied with a glance down to the rug, which was showing obvious marks where Steve had been pacing.

If possible Steve’s blush deepened, much to Bucky’s amusement. “You know what? Shut up.” His hands set to turning the paper-wrapped gift instead of fidgeting with his nails, the rustle comfortably settling into the background of their conversation.

Bucky hummed lowly, feeling his eyes crinkle as he stepped back, before the pre-rut scent started to actually get to him.

That wasn’t something he particularly wanted to deal with right now. Or ever. It felt too close to dangerous for reasons he couldn’t quite name even if he tried.

“I’ll give you your space if you want me to stick around. But I can also go find somewhere else if you want to try and avoid the guilt of hovering for the next week.”

It was supposed to be a lighthearted jab. A tease. Bucky didn’t know how to feel about the shadow crossing Steve’s face instead.

“I don’t know if I could handle you leaving for any stretch of time right now. For a few days I mean; I’m not going to try and lock you in here constantly.”

And, well, Bucky didn’t know what to do with  _ that  _ either. The way the words knotted themselves up and got lodged somewhere in his chest, in spite of the fact that they weren’t even his.

He took a moment, focusing on breathing around them as they settled in properly. “Ok. I can stay.”

* * *

By the time Steve’s pre-rut was over, Bucky felt like both of them were climbing up the walls. They were both antsy, with Steve’s mother hen tendencies ramping up to the point where Bucky was feeling very nearly smothered by it.

That alone wouldn’t have been so bad if Steve hadn’t insisted on  _ touching  _ him at every opportunity he got on top of that.

Steve started to lock their ankles together under the table while they ate. Pulled Bucky against his side while they were watching television and trying to catch up with Steve’s ever-growing list. Hell, there had been one instance where Bucky had been urged and prodded until he was curled up against Steve’s chest so he could bury his face in between Bucky’s shoulders.

Nothing he would automatically classify as odd, but it was definitely a lot. Bucky was going to smell like him for a week regardless of how many showers he took.

When it finally did hit, the relief was short lived at best. He’d thought it was ridiculous how much Steve had hovered just a few months prior, but now Bucky found himself doing the exact same thing. Reading outside Steve’s door, making sure he left food and water several times a day…

Making a point not to listen to the low, wanting sounds Steve didn't manage to muffle, and barely tried to suppress.

It was harder than anticipated. Bucky was pretty quiet when he brought himself off, and he was pretty sure that had always been the case. And while Steve wasn’t  _ loud _ , per se…

The soft growl he heard while dropping off another three bottles of water definitely made his skin prickle, face flushing as he nearly froze. The urge to go inside, to check on him, was familiar by itself, but not in this particular set of circumstances. He didn’t think they were ever like that, regardless of Bucky’s pining.

He scuttled back into the safety of his own room, palm pressed over his own heart as if he could slow his pulse just like that.

It didn’t work. He tried not to think about it and hoped this would be over soon enough. Tried not to think about Steve’s voice as his other hand slid under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the slick already starting to gather between his cheeks.

* * *

It was too warm when Bucky woke up. That was the first thing he really noticed, too groggy to even consider why.

He grumbled a bit, attempting to roll onto his stomach in the vain hope that maybe he’d cool off then, though the tightening of arms around his waist stopped him from getting too far.

Awareness jolted through him, eyes flying open, and Bucky quickly picked out the three most important things of this situation.

It was still the middle of the night, judging by the lack of light trying to sneak through his curtains.

Steve had come in at some point and curled himself around Bucky.

Steve was still very much in rut.

It wasn’t that Steve was doing anything untoward that tipped him off to that last point. If Bucky hadn’t been able to smell it on him, he might find this more or less innocuous. Definitely something to bring up later, but not a big deal in and of itself.

The memory of sharing a bed with Steve had come back long ago, though he hadn’t been sure if he should mention it or ask if they could go back to that. It felt too close to the careful lines they had started to keep when Bucky had first come back.

For his part, Steve seemed to be asleep, his breath slow and steady against Bucky’s neck.

He had to swallow thickly, praying that this stayed innocent. That he wouldn’t fall prey to that heavy spiced-apple scent that now permeated Bucky’s room, because that would be something he didn’t know if they could come back from.

He tried to stay perfectly still, waiting for Steve to wake up and realize his mistake and leave while apologizing a thousand miles a minute. Tried to ignore the way Steve’s scent got wrapped up in his head, making him dazed.

Steve woke slowly, the only indication being his breath quickening and the languid way he maneuvered himself so that Bucky could feel it dampening the back of his shirt. Right at the collar, and Bucky was definitely not strong enough for this.

“Hey pal,” he said softly, barely a whisper.

He could  _ feel _ those lips curve into a smile, humming lowly as he pulled Bucky closer, making him aware of the soft press of his cock against the back of Bucky’s thighs. Clearly through the worst of his rut if he wasn’t hard constantly.

“Buck…” The word felt more like a prayer, pressed against the thin fabric of Bucky’s sleep shirt.

Whatever sound got tied up in his throat felt wounded, though it never actually got a moment to exist in the air. The metal plates of his arm clinked as they shifted, his hands clutching at the fleece blanket that had been one of the first extra things Steve had given him.

His breaths were slow, forcibly measured as he tried to get ahold of himself, to be more present, but it was hard to do that when none of this felt like it was something that could actually be happening. ‘Best friends since childhood’ didn’t do this. Steve could have anyone he wanted, it didn’t make sense for him to want--

Whatever train of thought was heading towards, it was derailed abruptly when Steve’s hand started to slide up Bucky’s shirt, hotly pressing over his racing heart, feeling far more intimate than it had any right to.

“Steve,” he prompted a little more forcefully now, though not much louder.

That seemed to be enough to shock Steve out of whatever he was doing, going unnaturally still, and Bucky could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

There was no accompanying rush to leave, likely frozen in panic. And in spite of all of Bucky’s trepidation, all his worries and anxieties, he wasn’t keen to rush him out.

What he really wanted was for Steve to stay. For Steve to  _ want _ to stay, to keep curled up in Bucky’s bed, plastered over his back like a too-hot blanket with those strong, secure hands that Bucky knew so well. Hands that Bucky had always known, because while they might be thicker now than before the war, they were still those broad palms with long, elegant fingers that wrapped familiarly around Bucky’s ever since they were too young to know any better.

Bucky didn’t realize that he had started to tear up until after they spilled over onto the pillow which was all sorts of mortifying.

_ That _ spurred Steve into action, hands pulling back as Steve scrambled upright as if he was afraid that touching him would make things worse. “Christ, Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I thought I was dreaming, I didn’t mean to--”

“Yeah, punk, I figured that much,” Bucky muttered, rolling onto his stomach so he could at least rub his face onto the pillow to wipe away the wetness. “You’re not upsetting me; it’s your fucking hormones that are making me emotional and nostalgic.”

Silence hung awkwardly between them, Steve seemingly unsure what to say.

It only took a few seconds for Bucky to sigh, turning his head to look at Steve as best he could in the darkness. “Don’t apologize, all right? I’m ok.”

“I don’t even know how I ended up in here…” Steve’s shoulders hunched in a little bit, embarrassment clearly radiating off of him as he started to sit up. “I’m really--”

“What did I say about apologizing?” Bucky interrupted. With a small grimace, he reached up, grasping Steve’s arm to tug him back down. “C’mon. It’s too early for us to be awake and I’m not worried about you stealing my virtue or whatever.”

Bucky was vaguely worried about the returning waterworks, but he knew Steve well enough that he wasn’t worried about him doing anything untoward.

It was more disappointing to think that than it really should have been. He shouldn’t even want that from Steve, especially after he’d already given Bucky so much. It made him feel greedy.

The reluctance was palpable, but Steve still slid back down onto the bed. There was a beat before he draped his arm back over Bucky’s waist that Bucky pretended not to notice, and he pressed his face into the pillow again. Hoping that he could get back to sleep with no issues.

In the end, he laid awake until he heard Steve’s breathing even back out. Waiting until he seemed to go slack before worming his way back to curl up against Steve’s chest.

* * *

Bucky got the impression that this wasn’t new. That they used to seek out company from each other during their cycles in the most platonic sense.

It wasn’t much. The memory of putting cool cloths over Steve’s forehead while surrounded by that heavy spiced scent, or squeezing Steve’s hand as another set of cramps wracked his body.

The sense of wanting felt more familiar now than it had during his own heat.

* * *

It was still too hot when Bucky woke up properly, but there was no confusion this time around. He knew it was Steve who had draped himself over Bucky’s back  at some point, and whose mouth was burning against Bucky’s neck, where the stretched out material had bared.

He groaned lowly, hips flexing automatically against the mattress and--

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks at the realization he was hard. Hard, and maybe the slightest bit wet though he wasn’t about to check that for himself.

Blessedly, Steve still seemed to be asleep, judging by his slow, deep breaths and low wordless murmuring. He’d always slept like a rock since getting the serum, unlike Bucky who just proceeded to get jumpier and more restless in the wake of his bastardized version of it.

Just like earlier, he tried to get himself out of Steve’s loose hold, though  _ also  _ just like earlier, he didn’t get very far before Steve tried to stop him.

He couldn’t even try to act upset over that, knowing that this was exactly what he’d hoped for when he asked Steve to stay. He’d wanted this, so Bucky contented himself with staying pinned against the mattress until Steve woke up, and hoped that he would go soft in the time he was waiting.

Except the more Bucky tried not to think about it, the harder it was to ignore. Focusing on anything else was even more difficult when all Bucky could think about was how nice it would be if Steve would just… If he would just touch him, kiss him, promise that it was going to be ok, that he would take care of it, and--

And he really needed to stop that line of thought because he could feel Steve’s breath stuttering against his shoulder.

Bucky swallowed thickly, falling still in the vain hope that Steve wouldn’t notice anything out of place. That the whole thing would seem innocuous enough.

It seemed to work to some extent, since Steve didn’t say anything outright. He moved slowly, removing his palm from Bucky’s stomach. And, Christ, his own nostrils flared at the spike of Steve’s scent. The sharp smell of arousal that made Bucky want to press his hips further against the bed.

He could hear the bedding rustle as Steve crawled out from underneath the covers, letting cool air in. He was going to leave without a word, just like Bucky had originally wanted him to.

He didn't expect something akin to panic setting in when that hope became reality.

“You’re still an octopus when you sleep,” Bucky said without consciously deciding to.

Mortification set in the second he heard his own words, but it seemed to bring Steve a bit of pause.

“Didn’t mean to be,” Steve murmured, staying where he was. Bucky was pretty sure he was in the doorway itself, hesitating just before the threshold.

With a soft sigh, he pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could actually look at him. The silhouette of Steve there, framed by the mid-morning light coming in through the windows was enough to set off a pang in his heart. The way it made his hair look like spun gold, and highlighted the proud ridge of his brow.

“Wasn’t a complaint.” He hesitated, tongue darting out to wet his lips, unsure how to phrase this but unwilling to let the Alpha walk away without hearing it. “If you want to stay… I mean, I don’t expect anything, obviously, but if you want company while you ride this out? I don’t lock my door.”

Though, he’d distinctly heard it click open which meant that, either before or after Bucky caught him, Steve had locked it himself. That wasn’t something Bucky really knew what to make of.

He could hear as Steve swallowed thickly, saw his hand flex around the doorknob. “It would probably be better if I didn’t.”

Just like that, Bucky could feel something shatter. He didn’t know what, didn’t want to know why, but it just…

He couldn’t think about that right now. Couldn’t dwell, and prayed it didn’t seep into his scent because that was a humiliation he wasn’t sure he could take. Eight words shouldn’t hurt that much.

Bucky forced himself to shrug before curling back onto his side. And if it happened that put his back to Steve, well. That was just a lucky coincidence. “Offer’s there regardless.”

The pause was palpable, but he hadn’t expected to hear Steve crossing the room again, or to feel the heat of his palm on the slight curve of his hip. “It’s nothing against you, all right? And it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…”

Silence settled over them once again, Steve being too stubborn to finish and Bucky not sure where he was going with this.

There was still a low-level scent of arousal that permeated the room. It had probably soaked into Bucky’s sheets while they slept, but that was hardly unusual with an Alpha in rut. It was to be expected.

He didn’t expect it to spike again when Bucky rolled onto his back to properly look up at him, feeling his hand slide over Bucky’s hip as he moved.

Watching as Steve’s eyes flickered down and--

Right. Bucky had been on his stomach partly to try and hide this.

“It’s just?” Bucky prompted, pulling the sheets up higher as if he could hide the obvious swell of his cock. Not that Steve was actually in much better condition considering that his own was obvious beneath the loose sweatpants, but he had an actual excuse there.

Steve didn’t immediately move to answer, and there was something thoughtless, instinctive about the way his palm shifted to hover over Bucky’s cock. Not touching. Not even close enough for Bucky to feel the heat radiating off of him. But it was unmistakable what he was reaching for.

That was when it at least somewhat clicked. Steve wanted to, and  _ that  _ was the problem. Which probably sounded ridiculous to anyone who didn’t know Steve as well as Bucky did.

It didn’t matter if both of them were willing right now. The second Steve was back to himself, he’d start listing off all the reasons why they shouldn’t have, guilt eating him up for weeks regardless of if Bucky told him yes right now.

That didn't stop him from wanting it. It didn't stop him from letting go of the cover to reach for him, but Steve had snatched his hand back, visibly horrified with himself. He didn’t stick around long enough for Bucky to say anything, bolting immediately out of the room and into his own.

Bucky couldn’t silence the low, frustrated snarl as he rolled back onto his stomach, fingers curling tight enough into the sheets that he worried they might tear.

It didn't matter if Steve had crossed the line first. He was going to backtrack twice as fast, and Bucky was pretty sure he couldn’t stop him.

* * *

Bucky recognized that they were in unfamiliar territory. That Steve was either going to barrel forward or retreat, and he was probably going to use the remainder of his rut as a way of avoiding Bucky for as long as possible while he made up his mind.

There wasn’t much he could do about it now, other than continuing to bring food and water, clean sheets, and wait outside his door.

It felt pathetic. He couldn’t bring himself to stop.

* * *

It took another two days for Steve to show his face. Though, Bucky got the impression that he wasn’t expecting to be caught so soon, judging by the deer in headlights look that he got when Bucky padded into the living area hours before he normally would.

The fever-flush was gone from Steve’s cheeks, as were the wide-blown pupils and, just as Bucky expected, there was definitely something sheepish in the way he averted his eyes back to his tablet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, visibly cringing deeper into the couch.

Steve’s guilt was a really a shitty thing to be dealing with when Bucky was still waking up, and he was pretty sure his flash of irritation was palpable.

He didn't deign to speak, though. Not yet, not willing to accidentally put his foot in his mouth if he spoke out of frustration. Bucky padded into their kitchenette, grabbing one of the pastel mugs Steve had picked up at some point after Bucky moved back in.

Actually, when he stopped to think about it, a lot of what he’d gotten used to in their apartment hadn’t actually been there when Bucky had first come back. Not the art on the walls, or the countless soft blankets and throw pillows. Those had all come in piece by piece after Bucky moved in. Little gifts not just for his room, but for the apartment as a whole.

It had started turning into more of a home rather than a place to sleep.

Thoughts like that kept him occupied as he spooned sugar into his coffee, since he was steadfastly ignoring the bitter scent of guilt that Bucky had just known was going to spread through their apartment.

“All right,” he said, sitting on the couch, facing Steve to make sure he could get his point across. “ I’m not mad or upset. We’re still fine. You didn’t cross a line or push any boundaries, or whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

“I was in your bed uninvited. And in the middle of rut; I could have taken advantage of you,” Steve interrupted, eyes very nearly pleading as if he wanted Bucky to be upset over this whole thing, which was really just such a  _ Steve _ thing to want.

It was hard to hold back a scoff, rolling his eyes as he stretched his foot out to gently nudge Steve’s knee. “You’ve never taken advantage of me a day in my life. I don’t think you’re even  _ capable  _ of taking advantage of someone, rut or no.”

Beside him, Steve squirmed a bit but carefully made sure not to remove the point of contact. “I just--”

“I know you’re sorry,” Bucky cut off, though his voice was softer now. Understanding. “I’m telling you there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Steve didn’t seem to know what to say to that, leaving Bucky to enjoy his coffee for a few moments. Leaving him to stretch out more so that his feet were fully in Steve’s lap as he lounged against the arm of the couch. Whether or not it was just for comfort, or if Bucky was trying to show Steve that everything was  _ really _ fine, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was both.

In the silence, the scent of guilt slowly started to dissipate, and Bucky let out a slow breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding in.

“Better?” he asked, gaze flicking to the condensation gathering on the matte black metal of his arm.

Even so, he caught the still semi-stiff nod, and could feel the warmth of the palm Steve settled over his ankles.

One hurdle down, then.

Whether or not Bucky actually wanted to risk this part of the conversation felt more or less irrelevant at this point. It felt like they had both been skirting around entirely too long, and there was only so much Bucky was willing to take.

More the point, it seemed like both of them were nearing the end of their respective ropes, if this last week was any indication. It wasn’t something they could reasonably keep doing.

“Have you been intentionally trying to court me, or am I reading too much into things?” The words were gentle. Bucky had a hard time forcing them to form without them sounding like an accusation. Trying to sound like he wasn’t fervently hoping for one answer over the other, regardless of the fact that he was.

Any loosening Steve had started to do was undone in an instant, and Bucky could feel the shocked gaze settling on his face, in spite of the fact that Bucky was trying to look anywhere but at Steve.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when Steve’s response was just as measured, careful not to give anything away either. “I’m not sure why you’re asking that.”

Bucky huffed, forcing himself to actually meet Steve’s gaze in spite of the fact that he knew it would give him away. “You’ve gotten into the habit of buying me things,” he started, trying to gage Steve’s expression as he spoke. “And I know that it’s mostly because I didn’t  _ have _ a lot of things when I came here, but… The towels, the blankets, clothes; it’s all… It’s all soft. It’s not proper nesting material, but it feels like it could be?”

Each word got Steve’s shoulders to lift higher until they were practically around his ears, and even those were tipped red. Embarrassed. “I wanted you to feel comfortable. HYDRA didn’t let you--I just wanted you to feel safe and have soft things around you. I didn’t mean to imply or assume anything.”

Regardless of the fact that it sounded like a definitive ‘no’, it still managed to feel like a spectacular non-answer. And that? That was getting so fucking frustrating, because neither of them seemed willing to go out on that limb first.

The one time in his life Steve Rogers decided to play it cautious, and it had to be this.

Bucky started to withdraw his feet slowly, tucking them beneath himself and watching the confusion raise Steve’s brows.

“All right, we’re going to do it like this,” Bucky said, more to himself than anything before continuing a bit louder. “If you want to actually try and court me, then you should think about getting me things for a proper nest. And if that’s not what you’re doing, just… Just carry on as normal.”

It was a bit of a cheap move on Bucky’s part. Still keeping the ball firmly in Steve’s court, but giving him two different courses of action instead of asking him to stop all together.

Was it going to backfire on him? Probably. But it was better than hanging around wondering if he was just imagining things or not.

Though, given the relaxing of Steve’s brow, he allowed himself a little bit of hope while he set himself to waiting.

* * *

The therapy sessions were finally starting to decrease in frequency. Bucky still found himself with a SHIELD-approved counselor every other week, but it was better than in the beginning when it seemed like he had been shuffled to a different doctor every day of the week for a myriad of reasons.

Steve was conspicuously absent when Bucky came home this time, though it seemed like he couldn’t have left more than ten minutes ago. The scent of his anxiety was still strong, bitter, and Bucky wasn’t sure what had him in such a fuss  _ now _ since he had been fine when Bucky left.

After all, their talk after Steve’s rut was weeks ago. Things had stopped coming into the apartment altogether, and Bucky was about ready to give up hope and pray that he didn't start scenting sadness all over their apartment.

When he made his way back to his room, though, he understood why Steve had decided to make himself scarce shortly before he knew Bucky was going to return.

There, sitting on his bed, was a new pile of blankets. Not the soft throws that currently littered the apartment, but large, thick ones with a stack of cushion-like pillows to match.

They were light greys and greens, heavy with feathers that crinkled beneath his fingers. Plush cotton, with a single silk sheet tucked between the layers.

A knot formed high in his throat, and there was a moment Bucky was afraid to get too close in case it turned out to be some sort of hallucination. Even as he approached, he had a hard time convincing himself that it was what he thought it was.

That Steve was saying what Bucky was so sure he was saying with this.

The blankets were soft under his hand, though not the same as his other new ones. These felt sturdier, like he wouldn’t accidentally rip them if he held on too tight.

In spite of the fact that Bucky wasn’t actually go into heat for another couple of months, right before fall if he was right, he found himself setting up the nest regardless. Clearing off his bed to lay down cushions, covering some with the blankets, placing more pillows around the perimeter, and repeating the process until he had a nice little nest that he could curl up into.

A nice little nest that he and Steve could both fit in, if his estimation was right.

That was where Steve found him almost an hour later, with Bucky rubbing his scent into the blankets as best he could without being obscene about it.

He paused in the doorway, takeout bags in hand as if that was his excuse for being gone for as long as he was.

“Is it all right?” he asked, drawing Bucky’s gaze to him.

Normally he’d be a little embarrassed to be caught lying on his stomach, hips propped up on a pillow just to make sure the angle was right, that the arch in his back wouldn’t hurt, but he was far too content right now. There was obvious vulnerability on Steve’s face, as if he was actually worried that Bucky would ask for proper nesting material as a courting gift and then promptly turn him down, and it broke his heart a little bit.

“It’s perfect,” he promised, stretching out luxuriously and rolling onto his back.

There was open relief on Steve’s face, his mouth parting the slightest bit as his shoulders finally loosened properly. “I wasn’t sure if…”

“You worry too much.” Bucky sat up properly for the first time since assembling the nest, head cocked to the side, and he really couldn’t help but quip, “It’ll be better once it’s been broken in a bit, though.”

Just as he expected, pink flooded Steve’s face, spreading over his nose and down his throat within a matter of seconds, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, something light fluttering in his chest.

“Good to know that you’re still a jerk underneath all that ‘poor me’ pouting you’ve got going on,” Steve said drily, as if he wasn’t blushing profusely. Which he still definitely was, even as Bucky made himself climb out of the nest.

“You have to at least somewhat like it if you’re planning on asking to bond with me in the foreseeable future,” Bucky retorted, taking one of the bags from Steve’s hands. “So either I’m not really a jerk, or you have really weird taste in Omegas and pal, I’m not sure which is worse for you.”

“You’re perfect for me.”

The words were low, almost as if he didn’t want Bucky to hear him. It still made Bucky pause, just a few steps behind Steve now.

He breathed slow, taking it all in, and Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if this is what it felt like to walk on air or not. It was… He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt this light while still being grounded. He wasn’t sure if that feeling would always be there, or if it would fade into something more comfortable as time went on.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before he turned right back around to kiss him. Cradling his jaw in his palm, though it wasn’t any more than their lips pressing together, slotting together for a brief moment before Bucky pulled back. It was hard not to smile when Steve tried to sway back into him.

“You’re pretty perfect for me, too.”

He leaned his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder, breath very nearly trembling. It shouldn’t have been as sweet as it was.

* * *

The gifts started to come in once more. Scented bath salts, a couple iridescent knives that looked too pretty to use, and even a few soft sweaters that Bucky worried would get caught up in the plates of his arm.

Ostensibly, not much had changed. They touched a lot more, but never beyond kissing. Clothes stayed firmly on, and Bucky wasn’t sure which one of them was hesitant to push forward.

“You know you don’t have to continually buy me things, right?” he asked, feeling the bed dip as Steve climbed in.

His skin was still damp from his post-run shower. Warm arms coming around Bucky’s waist as he made himself comfortable.

They didn’t sleep together. Steve was still a little skittish about that for one reason or another, but often he’d come into Bucky’s room after he finished running with Sam, when Bucky was just starting to wake up, and that was almost a fair tradeoff.

“I want to,” Steve countered, nudging his way into the crook of Bucky’s neck and breathing deeply. “I want you to have nice things.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath, but nestled back against Steve’s chest regardless. “I get that you’re trying to prove you’re a big, strong Alpha who can provide for me, but I already knew that.”

Steve hummed lowly, pressing his hand over Bucky’s covered stomach. A grounding touch. “I always wanted to spoil you. Before all this; before…”

He trailed off, though Bucky was fairly certain he understood. Before, when Bucky was the one doing his best to spoil Steve, regardless of how many extra hours he’d had put in to do so.

Bucky let out a slow breath, fitting his own hand over Steve’s and squeezing lightly. It wasn’t just about giving Bucky things, then. It was about gratitude for the times when Bucky had done the same to him.

It was equaling them out just as much as it was a sign of interest.

“I think you’ve already more than paid me back for that, Stevie. You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to, but I think you’ve already given me about everything I could even think of wanting.”

He could feel Steve nod the slightest bit as his knees tucked neatly behind Bucky’s.

They fell silent for a few moments, Steve comfortably tucked into Bucky’s neck and almost definitely getting his own scent all over Bucky. “Think your heat’s going to start ramping up pretty soon,” he murmured eventually. Shifting minutely so his hips were no longer pressed flush against Bucky.

Bucky blinked a little bit, brow furrowing. He’d recognized that it was probably going to come on soon enough, but still… 

“Still the wrong season for it, huh?” he muttered, mostly to himself. Supposedly there was a reason spring and fall were when most Omegas went into heat. It would still be sweltering hot when his second one of the year hit, and the thought of being surrounded by those heavy blankets Steve gifted to him sounded less than enjoyable.

At least in early March the thought of layers upon layers of soft furnishings was a blessing, even if it made airing out his room frustrating at best.

Steve huffed a laugh, slowly untangling himself from Bucky, though he didn’t move to actually leave the bed. Just turned over onto his stomach, keeping his arm loosely draped over Bucky’s waist. “Some things never change, I guess. I should have gotten you some lighter things; I don’t know why it slipped my mind.”

“What, do you spend a good portion of your day thinking about my usual heat cycle? Because that didn't cross my mind when I demanded proper nesting materials.”

“All right, fair.” Even with his face pressed into a pillow, Bucky could see the curve of a smile, and his heart thudded almost painfully.

“How do you know, then?” he asked.

There was a small, questioning sound that was mostly muffled by the memory foam.

“My heat. You and I both forgot that I get the late summer ones, so how did you figure it’s gotta be coming up soon?”

The answer seemed fairly obvious, but that didn’t quite stop him from asking. Bonded pairs usually could tell; they were usually more attuned to each other’s scents and he was fairly sure that it was common for his mother to know George’s heat was approaching weeks before his father himself knew.

The problem being, he and Steve weren’t bonded. Not yet.

“I just can. You smell a little sweeter than usual.”

It was hard not to react to that. Or even decide if that was a good thing or not; it was just so… It was so domestic.

A lot of their lives felt oddly domestic, when he stopped to consider it.

“All right,” Bucky said eventually, hopefully before the wait had gotten awkward. In spite of this entire tangent feeling awkward. “You’ll spend it with me, won’t you?”

Steve propped himself up on his elbows, actually looking Bucky dead in the eye, and there was something dark in his gaze. Something heavy that made Bucky’s guts twist. “Do you want me to?”

There were three failed attempts, Bucky’s mouth opening and closing before he nodded quickly, a little jerkily. Of course he wanted him to. He’d wanted last time, and during Steve’s rut, and when Steve found him in that tiny little apartment in Romania… 

Even before the war, he had wanted. That wasn’t the problem here.

“Do you?” he asked in turn, finally getting words to form after so many failed attempts.

He wasn’t sure what Steve saw in his face. Worry, trepidation… Whatever it was got Steve’s brow to soften as he reached out to brush waves of dark hair back behind his ear. Tenderly tracing over the vulnerable skin just beneath his jaw. “I broke into your room mid-rut, Buck. Seems kind of obvious that I want to share that with you.”

And of course he’d known that much. Those were pieces he’d put together before they had even sorted things out as decently as they had. Before Bucky had made them decide an end point for this.

“I want all of you,” he continued, voice dropping low enough to send shivers down both of Bucky’s arms. The metal plates recalibrating with a low whine.

That wasn’t lost on Steve, whose eyes tracked the movement almost hungrily. Which was really a hell of a thought on its own, regardless of anything else happening at this moment.

Bucky swallowed thickly, eyes dropping almost coyly in spite of the flush on his cheeks. “Well then. I guess we’re going to be breaking in the nest after all.”

At least that got him the satisfaction of drawing an embarrassed laugh out of Steve as he collapsed back onto the pillows. Eventually he’d get up and drag Bucky out into the world of the living, but for now Bucky was more than content to stay there, watching his back rise and fall as Steve breathed.

* * *

The words ‘I love you’ hadn’t been spoken in more than a casual way. Bucky didn't think he expected that to change, especially given that Steve had more or less said it in what he did, in how he met Bucky’s requests.

The way that he’d intentionally gone out to get Bucky nesting materials as a courting gift that Bucky had nearly demanded. The way that he said that he wanted all of Bucky.

Even he wasn’t obtuse enough to misread any of that, regardless of how hard his brain tried to spin it like it was nothing more than Steve’s over eagerness.

Neither of them said anything. Bucky didn't think they had to, either.

* * *

Bucky built his nest up the night before his heat hit. The instinct had kicked in hours after he should have been asleep, when he couldn’t stand the itch under his skin that didn't fully settle even after he was surrounded by cushions on all sides.

He could have woken up Steve to help ease him through the early stages of it. But in spite of the fact that he knew Steve would say yes because Steve  _ wanted _ to say yes, part of Bucky felt guilty all the same. Irrationally.

The sunlight that woke him up irritated his eyes, and Bucky couldn’t stop a soft, wordless complaint before pulling the blanket over his head. It was too hot for it already, and Bucky wasn’t sure if it was just the late summer heat, or if his fever had already set in.

Steve should have been there. He was almost always there when Bucky woke up, or at least shortly afterwards. But as far as he could tell, Steve wasn’t even in the apartment. While Bucky could pick up the faint scent of him that clung to half of the bed, he was positive that he left for his run with Sam already. The almost spiced scent of him was faded.

As faded as it ever got, at least.

It felt like he’d slept through the worst of the cramping, and Bucky felt so grateful for that much. The ache of his skin, however... It echoed the empty, fluttery feeling in his chest. The knowledge that he was alone, even if he knew it would be temporary.

He squirmed, feeling dazed and almost a little confused as his hands fumbled with his sleep pants. The bright, sunshiny ones that he was sure were meant as a gentle tease now clung to his ass and thighs, soaked through with slick. It was hard not to be embarrassed about the wet material that felt uncomfortable even when he wasn’t moving.

Steve. He needed Steve to get in here, needed him to be  _ home _ .

Swallowing down the irrational hurt, Bucky tried to make himself do what he needed to, fumbling with the tie of his pants before unceremoniously shoving them off his hips so he could kick them off.

Steve wasn’t here to help. His Alpha wasn’t there to help strip him down, and it was such a petty thing to want but Bucky didn't know how to stop thinking about it, even as he tossed the soiled clothes outside of the nest. The hint of cool air outside feeling almost like a balm on his overheated skin before the sting of the light outweighed the relief.

His heat barely started and Bucky already hated it, even if it would be the one to officially tie him to Steve if all went well.

The itch to fix his nest rose back up, Bucky kneading at the blankets and rearranging the cushions until his hips were propped up enough that he could easily offer himself up like he so desperately wanted to.

A gentle test with his fingertips showed that he was already so slick, so lax that he slid right in. The slightest bit of pressure drawing a soft, high noise that he couldn’t convince himself to hold back. Insisting to himself that it wasn’t a call for Steve, even though he knew that’s exactly what it was.

It wasn’t perfect or even soothing. Just hot pressure against already hot skin, and Bucky buried his face into the blankets as his knees slid further apart.

Presenting, he realized absently. Hips tilted up so he could wet his fingers, chest low and ass high as if he was trying to entice someone.

The door to the apartment opened, and relief absolutely flooded through him as he repeated that soft whine of a call.

“Buck?” Concern riddled Steve’s voice, and Bucky could hear his footsteps as he approached. His scent getting stronger, and Bucky almost wanted to cry.

There was shuffling before the bedroom door clicked and the lock was closed, the heavy, burned sugar scent he was coming to recognize as Steve’s arousal filling the room.

There was still caution in the air as Steve approached the nest. It wasn’t enough to get Bucky to pull his fingers away from the laxness of his rim.

“You’re ok, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, the bed dipping under his weight. “Can I come in?”

And even if he recognized that it was well intentioned, that it was just in Steve’s nature to worry about overstepping boundaries, it still drew a very un-Omega-like growl from Bucky’s throat. “If you don’t get in here in the next twenty seconds, I’m going to physically drag you in myself.”

A huff of breath that might have been a laugh loosened at least some of the tension that weighed down the room. “You’re so bossy,” he complained, even if the fond tone was more than obvious.

A soft sound got tied up in his throat as Bucky curled up onto his side instead. God, he  _ ached _ . It was only the first day, and Bucky could tell that he was going to be miserable during his heat, company notwithstanding.

There was a rush of cool air as the top layer was lifted enough for Steve to crawl in, and Bucky couldn't help but whine at the rough texture of Steve’s clothing against his skin as he buried his face into the pillows to avoid the light.

“Sh, I know,” Steve soothed, even as he curled up right behind Bucky and pulled him tight against his chest.

Bucky bit back a soft complaint, squirming a bit against Steve’s grip as he tried to press his ass against his hips. “Stevie, c’mon…”

Steve just hushed him again, palm sweeping up Bucky’s bare chest and covering the scent glands just under his jaw. He was helpless to do more than shudder and go limp against that.

“That’s it,” Steve murmured, gently urging Bucky onto his stomach, keeping his head tilted back so he could press their mouths together. Soft, chaste, and nothing like what Bucky needed right now.

Bucky got his knees under him, not caring about how obscene it looked when he arched his back. Even with the serum, Steve would probably have a difficult time seeing him with the blankets on top of them.

He could sense the pause more than hear it, his own pulse loud in his ears, before finally he could feel fingers drifting over the swell of his ass. “You’re sure about this, Buck?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, deliberately spreading his legs wider until he could feel the slight chill of air against his slick hole. “I told you yes. Consent was granted months before my heat, yesterday, and I’m giving it to you again now.”

At least it drew a soft huff out of Steve, and his touch firmed up. Deliberately drawing inward to the crease until his thumb was pressed flat against his taint, the tip just beneath his balls. “Sorry for wanting to make sure.”

It would have been a good opportunity to snark back, to say that Steve damn well ought to be sorry, but another wave of cramping had him tightening up, the metal plates shifting audibly.

Early heat was the absolute worst part of the whole ordeal. The ache of his guts, the sudden onslaught of slick… Not that the latter actually eased up all that much during the days that followed.

Steve was steadfast, though. His other hand rubbed soothingly at Bucky’s back and shoulders, whispering reassurances. The spiced apple scent he remembered being soaked into his sheets after Steve’s rut was almost enough to make up for the fact that he was still wearing his goddamn pants.

“I’m gonna try something, all right?” Steve asked once Bucky went limp again, when his hips started rutting into the cushion beneath him. “I want you to tell me if it doesn’t work for you.”

He didn't do much more than nod; his forehead pressed against one of the cushions as his hips tilted further up. Needing something, anything in him at this point. He’d take his own fingers if he couldn’t get anything else.

Steve took a slow breath, and for the first time Bucky wondered if he’d actually shared a heat with anyone before. Or a rut, for that matter. Sure, he’d kept mostly to Bucky before  _ and  _ during the war, but he had been awake for years before Bucky had come back to him. He would have been surprised if he hadn’t had offers, but Bucky had always been surprised when Steve  _ didn't _ get offers, even before. Bucky had always thought that anyone would be so lucky to have Steve.

There was a little bit of shuffling before Steve was settled between Bucky’s knees, his hands firm on his ass as he spread the cheeks further apart.

And without much more warning than that, Bucky could feel something hot, something damp pressing against the already slick skin.

His tongue pressing flat against him. His mouth covering Bucky’s hole, and heat shot through him like a wildfire just from the thought of that alone.

It was heady. Not quite satiating, but it made his skin prickle every time Steve’s tongue would curl into him. He could feel every lick, every moan, and it wasn’t long before Bucky was reaching for his cock with shaking hands. Needing to get the edge off even if he wasn’t sure he could focus long enough to do it himself.

Steve was still far more vocal than he was, even though his mouth was thoroughly occupied, and something about that made his blood sing. Steve wanted this. Steve wanted  _ him _ , regardless of anything else.

It wasn’t a wide stretch, or a deep one, but something about the way that Steve teased, easing him open with tiny licks before pressing in fully, only to retreat again had Bucky’s heart pounding, his body unable to really guess what he was going to do next.

It made him squirm, clumsily pushing back against Steve’s face. Biting back a soft keen when his tongue would push in fully.

He couldn’t bring himself to properly stroke himself, but his fingers wrapped tight around his cock all the same as the pleasure built steadily in the pit of his stomach. Slow but incessantly, in spite of the fact that it didn't feel like it could prove to be enough to actually bring him off in the end.

“Stevie,” he gasped, nearly a plea. His hand was slick, and the questioning hum against the sensitive skin between his cheeks brought a choked sob to his throat. “Stevie, gimme more.”

In spite of the fact that he’d asked for it, Bucky couldn’t quite bite back a high whine when Steve actually pulled away.

Steve hushed him, wrist dragging up the arch of his back and rubbing his scent into his skin. “I’ll give you what you need.” The words felt like gravel, making Bucky tremble.

His fever felt like it was burning full-force now, in spite of the fact that Bucky knew damn well that it was going to be worse the second day. All he could really bring himself to do to try and alleviate it was cant his hips back against Steve’s grip, still tight around his hip while his other hand buried itself in Bucky’s hair. Pulling it up and exposing the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Up until HYDRA, he’d kept his hair short. On summer days when it was too hot to wear clothes, much less wear them properly, Bucky pretty regularly had his collar loose enough that the bonding point was on full display. Now, though, with Steve physically exposing it? It was a little dizzying and felt intimate in a way nothing else had so far.

“There you go,” Steve said when Bucky very nearly crumpled beneath him.

Christ, he could feel how damp his thighs were, his heart pounding in his ears as his hole clenched on nothing. Something tied up his throat, some emotion he didn't want to put a name to in fear of ruining. The tenuous flutter in his chest contrasting with the sensitivity of the rest of his skin.

When Steve removed his hands, he was left almost feeling bereft for a moment. The thought that Steve was leaving coming forth in spite of the fact that Bucky was well aware that Steve was probably actually taking the time to strip himself down.

Logic during heat tended to be largely ignored, in his experience. Instinct and heart took over, and it was honestly a little terrifying sometimes.

Steve, however, didn't seem to care if Bucky rationally understood he was staying, since he was quick to murmur reassurances, soft enough that Bucky almost couldn’t hear them. He could feel them, though. Understanding nonetheless.

He tried to make himself comfortable, still absently squeezing his cock from time to time as he heard the shuffling of Steve’s clothes coming off. As his scent became stronger once his skin was uncovered.

That alone wasn’t much help, but when he could feel his naked length heavy against his hip, Bucky could almost believe that alone would be enough to help ease him through his heat. It would be easier just having Steve curled up in the nest with him even if he didn't knot him.

“Please,” he insisted softly, clutching at the pillow beneath his cheek.

Steve didn't do more than hush him, trailing his lips over Bucky’s shoulder. Back down his spine until he set his teeth against the small of his back for a brief moment. “I know, gorgeous. I know.”

The gentleness didn't stop there, though. In spite of the fact that Bucky was almost certainly more than ready to be taken--the copious amount of slick would help ease the way of just about anything--Steve didn't jump right in.

His fingers felt thicker than Bucky’s were, sliding in one at a time as he carefully opened him up further until Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what direction was up anymore. It wasn’t enough, it seemed, in spite of the fact that Bucky knew damn well that he could get off just from being fingered. Steve’s motions seemed more economic than anything else. Soft, gentle, but intent on getting Bucky loose instead of bringing him off as Steve mouthed along his jaw.

At some point Bucky had let go of himself, his own hands tangling themselves up in layers of blankets as he practically kneaded at them. Quiet, choked off cries finding their way around the lump in his throat as he pushed back against Steve’s hand as best he could when Steve had chosen to hold him firmly in place. Making it so clear which one of them was in control here, and that… Bucky didn't know what to do about that, other than scrabble against the bedding as his chest heaved with every breath.

He didn't know how long it went on. Too long, but being filled up by his Alpha, even if it was just like this, quieted at least some of his symptoms. Steve was getting him ready. His Alpha was going to open him wide so he could breed Bucky up without hurting him.

Eventually Steve’s fingers eased out, and he was pretty sure he could hear them slide wetly over Steve’s skin. Slicking himself up.

Bucky’s breath shook, knees shuffling as he pushed his forehead against the pillow beneath him. “I’m ready,” he said softly, in spite of the fact that Steve probably already knew that. If not from whatever his scent was doing, then from the fact that he’d felt it, reached deep into Bucky and  _ made _ him ready.

The palm that had been wrapped tight around his hip slid up his back, pushing between Bucky’s shoulder blades as if he could possibly sink down any lower. As if his chest wasn’t already flush against the bed.

He didn't speak though, Steve’s nerves were palpable even as he pressed his closed lips against the back of Bucky’s neck as a promise.

Saying without words that he’d give Bucky everything he needed, and all he could ever want, if Bucky would just give him  _ time _ .

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure how long he was willing to wait before his patience would snap and he’d flip them over.

The first slide of his cock felt almost glacial, time stuttering at the first stretch until Bucky was dizzy with it. Breathing felt like more of a chore than ever. A soft, broken off moan clawed its way up his throat that Steve answered with a low curse of his own.

It seemed to take forever before Steve’s hips were pressed against Bucky’s, until there was no room left between them and Bucky felt so open, so vulnerable and so embarrassingly needy that he didn't know how to even start articulating it all, even to himself. Words jumbled as Steve fit himself against him like a particularly heavy glove.

He draped over Bucky’s back, pressing him down until his hips protested with the stretch and Steve’s breath was hot and trembling in Bucky’s ear.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, placing a kiss against the hollow beneath Bucky’s jaw. Chaste, gentle. As if Bucky was the most precious thing in the world.

It was impossible to forget how momentous this was for both of them. Even Bucky’s lust-addled brain latched onto that truth without a moment of hesitation.

His heat wasn’t as sensitive to the moment as Bucky’s heart was, however. Before long, he was squirming under Steve’s bulk. Trying to gain some semblance of friction, either against his own cock, or from Steve’s buried deep enough inside him that he was almost convinced  _ that _ was the reason it felt difficult to draw air into his lungs.

Steve caught on quick enough, pressing another kiss to the delicate skin behind Bucky’s ear before he picked himself up. His wide, smooth palm still pressed against Bucky’s back, feeling more like a promise than it had any right to.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said. Worrying even now, and it was just so  _ Steve _ . Turned on to hell and back, cock fully sheathed inside of him right down to the hint of a knot at the base, and still fretting.

Bucky’s answering nod felt jerky, gasping as his hands tightened and relaxed twice more before finally deciding that now was the time to hold on firmly.

In spite of the warning, Steve was slow to start. Gentle little half thrusts that didn't so much as make Bucky budge, and a low growl was quick to build up in his throat in response.

He wasn’t some weak, gentle little thing that needed coddling. And while he understood the hesitation, he wasn’t made of fucking  _ glass _ , especially after all the work Steve had put into stretching him out already.

“You’ll take it how I want you to take it,” Steve said, as if he knew exactly what it was Bucky was thinking about.

Probably he did, honestly.

“Alpha,” he tried regardless, grimacing at how hoarse he sounded already. His throat clicked when he swallowed.

In spite of himself, Steve’s hips jerked a little harder, the soft sound of skin against skin feeling almost loud, and Bucky’s whine was at least half for show, vocalized to encourage Steve. To try and convince him that more of that, harder than that, was a better idea.

To an extent, it worked. The low, answering rumble in Steve’s chest was all the warning Bucky got before he picked up the pace. Still careful, still easy, but it was enough to draw a real groan out of Bucky before his throat clamped shut again.

Little by little they worked up to it, often prompted by soft growls from Bucky and his attempts at fucking himself back onto Steve. Not that he had the leverage to have any sort of effectiveness, especially against Steve’s grip, still firm around his hip to the point where Bucky was so damn sure he was going to bruise if only for a couple hours.

It felt like it took both forever and no time at all before Steve was thrusting into him with near abandon, his harsh breath and low snarling punctuating the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of Bucky’s ass. 

Relief came and went, temporarily easing the worst of his symptoms as Bucky spilled over onto his hand more than once under the steady pressure of Steve’s budding knot against his prostate

Bucky was fairly certain that the dizzying need wouldn’t fully let up until they tied together and his Alpha’s cum filled him up.

He could feel the stretch, the low burn as Steve’s knot swelled, and Bucky couldn’t help but to let the heat wash over him again with a short cry, hands scrambling for Steve’s without bothering to wipe them off first. Some baser part of him needing Steve to carry his scent in whatever way Bucky could make him.

Steve growled low, setting his teeth on the side of his neck as he pressed Bucky further against the bed.

Bucky fought to stay as quiet as he could, answering Steve in soft whimpers as he tried to spread further and further, panting open-mouth against the blankets. Steve had already wrung four orgasms out of him, and each one felt like stars in his veins. Burning hot, sparkling, but lasting satisfaction still felt too far off.

“Don’t think I can go much longer,” Steve admitted, breathlessly. At some point he’d draped himself over Bucky’s back again, the hand against his spine having tangled back into his hair, holding him firmly against the bed.

Bucky almost laughed, feeling absolutely dizzy at this point, possibly a little dehydrated. Steve was trying to apologize for being close to his limit, as if he  _ hadn’t _ been going for what felt like forever. What a goddamn punk. “Gonna knot me?” he asked, trying to bare more of his neck although Steve was holding him about as arched as he could get. “C’mon Alpha, been waiting all day for you to fill me up. Give it to me.”

Steve groaned, a punched out thing as he set his teeth against Bucky’s shoulder, and that seemed to be all it took for his knot to thicken further.

Somehow the stretch felt more intensive than anything else, regardless of the fact that it still wasn’t big enough to lock in fully. It just meant that the push-pull at Bucky’s rim as it slid in and out ached in spite of the fact that his body accepted it easily every single time.

He was going to be wrecked when this was over, covered in his own seed and absolutely gaping.

“Steve--”

“I know,” he gritted out, cutting off whatever babble Bucky was going to actually manage.

His own hand fumbled beneath his hips once again, breath hitching as his shaking fingers wrapped around his cum-slick cock. Hopefully this time his heat would be slaked enough that he could actually breathe around it, even if only for an hour.

The fifth orgasm hit him almost as hard as the first, though only a few drops spilled from his cock. Bucky tensed up as sparks spilled down his spine and he clenched tight around Steve’s knot. A soft, short keen got firmly stuck in his throat as he shook through it, oversensitivity burning just as hot when Steve’s pace didn't slow down to ease him through, but redoubled instead until Bucky thought he was going to scream from it.

Finally, finally, the stretch seemed to stop, Steve gasping hot and wet against the back of his neck as they locked firmly in place. As he spilled heavily into Bucky’s too-willing body.

“Buck, I…” The words sounded urgent in spite of him not finishing his sentence. Hands gripped tighter, yanking at Bucky’s hair until his chin was tucked against his chest.

Bucky didn't need to hear the rest, putting it together almost without a spare thought. His answering nod was jerky, barely getting anywhere with how hard Steve was pinning him in place. “Yeah. Yeah, Stevie, I… Do it.”

Somehow, in spite of it all, Bucky could still feel the seconds drag by before Steve seemed to understand. Before he seemed to  _ accept _ and fit his teeth over the bonding point before letting them sink in.

The sharp jolt of pain as he broke through skin actually brought a scream past Bucky’s lips, everything slotting together in a hypersensitive mess. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, ragged breaths making his chest heave as he clutched at Steve like a goddamn lifeline.

Bucky was pretty sure he blacked out within seconds of Steve bonding with him.

Not even a minute seemed to pass before Bucky was blinking his eyes back open, Steve’s hard grip having softened to something worshipful. Petting Bucky’s hair back, smoothing over his bruised hip, mouth lax against the back of his neck. His knot still stretching Bucky wide and holding his seed in.

“I’m keeping you,” he murmured, sounding half asleep even as his hips continued to rock shallowly.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, a little delirious himself as he awkwardly reached back to grasp Steve’s hip in a half-hearted attempt to stop his fucking. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to.”

He could feel Steve smiling against the back of his neck, and Bucky could breathe. Any sort of tension flowing out of him until the next wave hit them.

It was only a matter of time, and while he recognized that, there was the small insistence that it wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d originally thought it would be.

* * *

Days passed much in the same manner. Fucking, sleeping, eating whatever little bits of food Steve offered from between his fingers… There was no discernible order to it, but it felt like a pattern all the same. His entire body ached even as he insisted that Steve continue to fill him up, to fuck him as hard as he could.

Steve was still plastered against his back when he woke up on the fourth day, making it a little harder to gauge if his heat had broken or if it was still in rallying for one last half hearted burst. His skin was sticky with sweat, cum, and other unmentionable fluids. He still  _ felt _ hot, but he was also encased in blankets and surrounded by Steve who gave off heat like a radiator. And while he was pretty sure he was slick and definitely wouldn’t mind if Steve kept rutting absently against him, it felt like his actual cycle was over.

Granted, that didn't mean Bucky was any more inclined to move or to wake Steve up so that maybe  _ he _ could deal with the mess. Even with help, his heat had been exhausting, and Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if he could be convinced to do so much as get up to shower everything off yet. No matter how disgusting he felt.

Behind him, Steve snuffled against the back of Bucky’s neck, likely seeking out the new scar he had left there days prior. His hold around Bucky’s waist tightened for just a moment before going lax again, only now he pressed Bucky a little more firmly into the bedding.

“Stevie,” he insisted lowly, nails lightly dragging over Steve’s arm to see if he could get him to stir.

All that got him was a muffled groan that made his skin prickle as it vibrated against the top of his spine. “One more,” Steve very nearly slurred, the hot line of his cock sliding more firmly between his cheeks.

And it was really hard not to laugh at that, charmed by something as ridiculous as Steve being exhausted but still ready to go one more time.

It made him wonder about how far that endurance of his could go under normal circumstances. How far it would go when he was in rut.

Bucky was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to walk after that. The idea of standing seemed a little iffy as it was, with how unsteady his legs felt even while laying down.

He tried to wiggle out from under Steve without disturbing him too much, but didn't find himself getting all that far. Maybe normally he’d be able to put forth more effort, but it just didn't seem worth it considering he was now physically beneath the half-asleep Alpha.

He wasn’t going anywhere, apparently.

With a small huff that was at least half faked, Bucky submitted himself to his fate. Maybe he could get another few hours of sleep before his body’s other needs made themselves better known.

Though, it seemed like Steve wasn’t letting him have that either. While the burned sugar smell of arousal wasn’t as strong as it had been, it still was enough to get Bucky’s cock twitching.

Bucky complained under his breath, knowing full well that he was probably entirely too sore to deal with that properly, but he couldn’t actually sleep around it either.

And if he had to suffer being awake, that meant Steve had to as well.

“Steve,” he repeated, a little more forcefully as he ground his ass back against Steve’s length.

His breath stuttered, and he could practically feel his lashes fluttering against his shoulder. Steve’s heart rate picked up before slowing back down as he scented Bucky properly. “You good?” he asked, voice more a grumble than usual, but at least it lost that low growl he’d picked up somewhere around day three whenever Bucky tried to leave the nest.

“You’re smothering me and I’m pretty sure I can smell how sweaty and gross I am, but other than that?” Steve would have been able to tell if he really wasn’t ok. Even before the bond he’d been able to read Bucky like a book.

Steve snorted, burying his nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck before pulling himself up onto his elbows to give him more room to breathe. “Give me a minute and I’ll get you into a bath.”

His heart panged a little ridiculously. Whether or not he could tell that Bucky was in no mood to move himself, or if he wasn’t ready to stop being an overbearing mother hen, he wasn’t entirely sure. He still loved either answer an unfortunate amount.

He still loved  _ Steve _ an unfortunate amount.

Bucky managed to force himself to roll onto his back, grimacing a bit at just how stiff the blankets were beneath him. That wasn’t something he wanted to think too much about, but the soft, dazed smile Steve had focused on him made the whole thing worth it.

His breath hitched, even as his fingers wrapped gently around Steve’s arm. Not pulling, not grasping. Just holding. “You’re keeping me,” he said, echoing Steve’s words from earlier. Confirmation instead of demand, and it was so obvious to see the smile in Steve’s eyes alone.

“I’m keeping you,” he repeated just as softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against Bucky’s lips.

He could breathe easy. This is what it felt like to be home.


End file.
